#Am currently working on said fic some more and as I workshop on edit the reunion fight I wanted to put together something about this

[candied-cae]

Hey y'all- lemme get a little honest about white privilege and ignorance for a second. We're talking about me in this case. Bc I wanna send a thank you to people I've seen on Twitter discussing the use of the 'nickname' Calico Jack uses for Edward in fanfics.

I've been working on a reunion fight between Stede and Ed for weeks now and in my first draft of it I wrote something like: "Ol' *Nickname*, really is an evil monster down to his evil heart, right?" being said by Ed to Stede.

The intention was to use this nickname as the painful characterization it was in the show as a point for Ed to push how he was feeling. That he felt like all the blame was being unfairly thrown his way, like Stede was looking him as nothing more than the monster everyone else has seen, like Stede was seeing the same racist caricature that so many have assumed was all there was to him.

I thought this reasoning to use to nickname as the slur it was, was enough to justify using it. But when I started seeing the discussion of it, I started to get worried. Most of the posts about the use of the name were to not include it as a nickname, as it isn't really one. To instead replace it with "Beardie" or other things in a context of friendliness. But I wasn't really using it that way, so I wasn't sure how the input applied to the scene I was writing... But I chose to err on the side of caution.

I've gone ahead and re-written the line as: "’The ol’ Demon really is rotten, all the way through his evil fucking bones right into his evil fucking heart’, right?" to just use a different nickname, though the passage loses as bit of the point I was going for...

But - as a white fic writer - my priority is not to be "making points" at the expense of my POC readers.

Just food for thought in case other fic writers run into this sort of question themselves. Lines can be rewritten, even if they don't work in the same way as you as originally wanted the dialogue to go. But POC people in fandom deal with enough racism as is, I do not want to pile onto it in making this space further unsafe for them to participate in.

Remember, education is a never ending endeavor. There are more than a few times when lack of education will fail you. Listen and adjust, it something we all need to keep working at because adding to the suffering of POC's for one's own self interest will never be the right way to go about things.

[random-writer-23]

The Mechanic (Poe Dameron x reader)

Summary: Reader is a rebellion mechanic for ships and droids, and on repeated occasions is sought out by Poe.

Word count: 7,239

Warnings: Poe being a desperate loser but in an affectionate way, Mentions of injuries, probably canonical inaccuracies, star wars cursing, X-wing crash.

Edit: wow this fic has gotten over 100 interactions y’all are amazing ily!!!

A/N: I hope you like this one shot, this is my first time writing for Poe so hopefully I get better at writing for him. Also fun fact this is my 70th post so thats cool. Also I am looking for beta readers to read my works before I publish them to the rest of y'all so if that's something that you are interested in see the pinned post on my profile for more information. Anyway enjoy my lovelies, and as usual, any and all comments, likes, Follows, and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Happy reading!

My workshop, my own personal safe haven, and the place where I'm currently making some small changes to a device prototype that would hopefully allow better cloaking for our rebellion ships. All I needed was a few more tweaks and then I'd be able to run some diagnostic tests to see if it works. I hum a random tune to myself while I unscrew the cover so I can tweak it. The door to my workshop slides open with a loud woosh, and I'm ambushed by the electronic beeping of one of my favorite droids.

"bee po woooip" BB-8 screams entering my shop and rolling to a stop at my feet.

"Hey BB" I respond putting my cloaking device aside so I could focus on BB-8. "what's up buddy" he responds with a couple of beeps and my eyebrows furrowed giving him a once-over look. "Kriffing hell, BB I just did your matinence upkeep last week what happened?!" I groaned guiding the droid over to a ramp he could roll up to get to my eye level. I put the screwdriver I was holding in my tool belt and walked over to my tool chest to get the tools I'd need to fix BB-8's problem. "Alright BB let's see what the problem is," I said and he chirped happily in response. I pulled my magnifying goggles over my eyes so I could see him closely.

"ooh BB okay, I think I see the problem, some of the wires over here got crossed, and then your gyroscopic regulators are all out of sync, no wonder you're not moving as smoothly as usual. and OH BB! This whole plate over here is broken, and these circuits over here are completely fried! How'd this happen!" I exclaimed continuing to examine the damage done to my favourite droid.

"weoop" He said dejectedly, and I chuckled buckling myself in for a long story.

--Time skip--

It turns out that BB-8 got all his so-called injuries, on a classified mission transporting valuable and delicate information to another rebellion base. However, he and his companions ran into some trouble with the empire. After his long-winded explanation about everything that went wrong, I cut him some slack and forgave him for ruining all the things I fixed last time.

I worked on BB-8 for more than an hour before finally fixing all his problems and getting him back to perfect working condition, then even after I fixed his issue, I sat and spoke to him about some of the upgrades I was developing for him, and for some of the other droids on the base.

"ooh, you know what I can do for you BB?" I asked flitting around my workshop quickly rummaging around to find the newest prototype I was working on for the droids on base. I brought it excitedly back to BB-8, and began explaining some of the upgrades I was giving him. 

"Now BB this signal booster I made will allow you to transmit signals to the next planet over, depending on how far away it is. I'll work on distancing issues soon"

"Waaaaaaaooopp" BB-8 chittered excitedly and I blushed.

"Oh BB you flatter me, but anyone could've done it, it wasn't that difficult," I replied with a smile as I installed the amplifier to his antennae. But was interrupted by the door of my workshop once again opening with a loud woosh. But instead of a droid or one of my fellow mechanics coming in for a chat, it was a voice I was unfamiliar with.

"Hey BB you in here?" The voice of a man called and I turned around to face him. I looked at him blinking in surprise as I forgot my magnifying goggles were still on my face, I took them off my eyes and put them on my head.

"who's asking," I asked taking my glasses off and laying them on the table next to me, so I could get a good look at the man who'd invaded my safe haven. 

"uh, Poe... Poe Dameron?" He replied as if it was a question, looking around my workshop in wonder. I turned in my chair to look at BB-8 who beeped happily and gave a little spin. The man, Poe, walked further into my workshop, glancing at all the gadgets and tools scattered around.

"yeah, uh sure come on in" I mumbled disgruntled by this man coming into my workshop uninvited, but I turned back to BB-8 with a smile on my face. "Almost done, BB" I mumbled putting my goggles back on and finishing installing the amplifier. "Alright BB, my new signal amplifier is still a prototype so you come back to me right away if you detect any problems okay?" I told him guiding him down the ramp, and over to Poe, who stood at attention when I turned to face him. "Now Poe, it's Poe right?"

"uh, y-yeah, ahem, yeah it's Poe" He stumbled over his words before clearing his throat, I threw him a small smile before giving him care instructions for BB. In the low light of my workshop, I saw his face flush.

"Well, then Poe" I put extra emphasis on his name, "I fixed all of the problems BB came in with, so he's as good as new, however, I did install a prototype signal amplifier that if it works as it should, will allow him to transmit across planets." I watched his eyebrows raise.

"impressive" He murmured

"I know" I responded with a smile. "But I just need you to watch over BB and ensure he takes things easy so he won't have to come back in for repairs too soon. And also bring him in immediately if you notice him malfunctioning" I instructed grabbing a towel and wiping the grease off my hands. BB rolled down the ramp from my table and rolled next to us. I looked back up at Poe, who had a dopey half-smile on his face, and even though the light in my workshop was dim, I could tell he was handsome. I'd heard about Poe Dameron, I'd just never run into him or introduced myself. Surprising considering he was the commander of an x-wing squadron and I was a mechanic, who fixed x-wings. But it was neither here nor there, I'd simply never had any reason to talk to him. I ushered BB and Poe towards the doors in an effort to get them out of my workshop. 

"So what you're saying is I'm invited to come see you again?" He asked leaning against my doorframe and swatting at BB-8 who was trying to usher him out of the room.

"Only If BB is with you... and if you don't track mud into my workshop again" I said looking at the trail of mud he brought inside, before kneeling down and placing a kiss on BB's head and ushering them out, quickly closing the door behind them before Poe could speak again. I heard BB-8's accusatory chittering through the door.

"No BB I'm not into her, I just met her, I just..." BB-8 interrupted him with more beeps and I chuckled. "no you know what, shut up, I've been looking for you for hours and you were there the whole time? Told me you were going to get repaired but didn't tell me you were going to get repaired by a cute girl. Conveniently left that part out" He replied their voices fading away. 

I laughed walking back to my desk picking scraps up as I walked, trying to clean up and put stuff away. 

--Time skip--

I was still trying to perfect my cloaking prototype when I got a buzz on my radio and simultaneously heard the woosh of my door open, and BB-8's electronic shrieking entered the room.

"Huh, Slow BB I can't understand you." I spun in my chair taking my goggles off my head to look at the droid. BB shrieked and beeped a little slower this time and I finally understood what he was trying to tell me. "They need me at the landing dock?" I clarified and he spun in a circle beeping his agreement. "For emergency repairs!?!" Why didn't you say so!" I explained jumping out of my seat. BB shrieked exasperated, as I hurried around my workshop grabbing tools I'd possibly need for the repairs. Once I grabbed everything I could possibly need I rushed out of my workshop and BB-8 rolled along behind me as fast as he could. Once we got to the landing bay I was completely out of breath from my sprinting, I mean running was hard enough on its own but running while towing a bunch of tools forget about it. I stopped in front of General Leia trying to calm my racing heart and catch my breath.

"Ah (y/n)! You're here! Perfect" General Leia said calmly and by her tone of voice if I wasn't previously made aware of the Emergency I wouldn't even know we had one.

"Reporting for duty General" I smiled having finally caught my breath "where do I start?" I adjusted my grip on my toolbox while she filled me in on what happened. I nodded along as she explained trying to contain my excitement at the number of repairs that were needed considering this was a somber occasion. As she came to the end of her explanation, I saw Poe walking by out of the corner of my eye, and I silently prayed that he would simply walk by. However the force was not on my side at the moment and he noticed the general and I. His face lit up when he made eye contact with me, and he turned around so he was walking towards us.

"Now I've divided up the repair tasks with you and the other mechanics but you're the only one I trust to make all the major repairs, you are my best mechanic you know this" General Leia explained and I beamed with pride.

"Thank you General, I'll get to work right away!" I replied trying to escape the conversation before Poe made it to us.

"I told you, you can call me Leia" She insisted at my formal manner, and I nodded with a smile.

"Ooh hoo on a first-name basis with the general?" Poe asked stopping next to us, as Leia and I Rolled our eyes in sync.

"I am... aren't you?"  I shot back and I saw the corner of Leia's mouth twitch upward. "Actually don't answer that, I have work to do" I nodded goodbye at Leia and spun around whipping my hair in Poe's face walking towards my first ship.

"Doing repairs are you?" Poe asked trailing behind me and I didn't answer him hopefully he'll get the hint and leave me alone. Thankfully I didn't have to answer him cause Leia did it for me. 

"Yes she is, so leave her alone! That's an order, Dameron!" Leia yelled after us and Poe spun around to face her walking backwards so he was still following me.

"Nice try general but we both know I don't listen to orders!" He shot back and I scoffed, "Besides she's got so much work to do she's gonna need an assistant" He saluted the general and ran to catch up with me. Which wasn't very hard considering I was weighed down by a giant toolbox. I tried to speed up as I heard his footsteps closing in but it was no use. He caught up and slowed his pace to walk next to me, and I felt the weight of my toolbox lighten as he lifted it and took it from my hand. I didn't argue with him carrying my toolbox considering it was quite heavy and he carried it all the way to the ship I was supposed to repair first. I pointed to an area on the ground where Poe could set my toolbox down.

"You can put my toolbox down over there" I mumbled walking to the side of the ship that has the most damage.

"So she speaks!" He grinned setting my toolbox down where I instructed, walking over to where I stood. I huffed my displeasure at his presence and ran my fingers over the damaged hull and cringed. Muttering to myself and making a mental note of things I need to fix. "Soo how long have you been working for the rebellion?" Poe asked leaning against the ship.

"Don't lean on that" I instructed and he stood up putting his hands in the air. "And pretty much as long as I can remember" I replied to his question pulling a wrench out of my belt and unscrewing one of the damaged plates on the ship's hull. Pulling it off with a huff I tossed it to the side causing Poe to have to jump out of the way to avoid it. I wiped some sweat off my face effectively smearing dirt and grease on my face.

"Woah watch it" he chuckled "you uh got some dirt on your face" he commented and I scoffed.

"Yeah it kind of comes with the job description" I shot back pulling another damaged plate off the hull. Smiling at the satisfying clank of metal on metal when I threw it with the other plate.

"She jokes too! By the way, you never gave me your name" He said trailing his sentence off purposely.

"Maybe I don't want to" I replied putting my magnifying goggles over my eyes so I could take a look at the engine.

"And why not?" He asked incredulously.

"Because you'll take that as an invitation to keep bothering me" I sighed, what the hell did the pilot do to this engine?

"Yeah you're right, but even without your name I'll just bother you more until I get it" he smirked.

"Listen Dameron-"

"Poe" he corrected.

"Listen Poe, I've got a lot of repairs to get done, and I like to work in peace and quiet so If you're going to sit here and bug me, you can at least make yourself useful and help" I huffed turning towards him with a frown.

"Fine fine, I know when I'm not wanted" He muttered surrendering and backing away from the ship.

"Obviously you don't" 

"I'll just catch you when you're not so busy next time" he grinned and I shook my head.

"Please don't," I said hurriedly but he turned a blind ear as he walked away.

"See you soon gorgeous!" He shouted picking his pace into a slow jog as he walked away. My face flushed at the compliment. 

I turned back to the ship in desperate need of repairs and cracked my knuckles anxious to get started on repairs and make actual progress. However even while I started getting into the ship repairs Poe stayed on my mind. I had to admit he was funny, funny and very handsome. But he was annoying, and he's a squadron commander, and I'm just a mechanic. So he's way out of my league not that I was thinking about Poe like that he was annoying, and kept bothering me, but he was very sweet. But I had to stop thinking about him, it was interferring with my work, and I had a ton more repairs to do by the end of the day. 

--Time skip--

I had finally managed to carve out a section of time for me to just sit in my workshop play some music and work on my cloaking prototype I had fixed all the visible bugs and was ready to run diagnostics on it. I stood up from my chair and scurried over to my computer trying not to giggle in excitement. Hooking up my prototype to my computer I loaded up my diagnostics program and attached the prototype to a piece of scrap metal so I could test it. I input the dimensions of the scrap metal and hovered my finger over the run diagnostic button when the door of my workshop opened with a loud whoosh. I audibly groaned and hoped for whoever was there that they had an excellent reason for interrupting me. Cause if they didn't I'd skin them alive and use them as a doormat. I heard BB-8s panicked beeps as he searched my workshop for me.

"Over here BB" I signaled him over to where I was and he started over to me. I was always happy to see BB-8, so I didn't mind him interrupting my diagnostic test.  "What's u-" I was interrupted by another person entering my shop.

"Kriff, BB you were going so fast I couldn't keep up" the now all too familiar voice of Poe Dameron accosted my ears as he entered my workshop. I audibly groaned looking at BB-8 my eyes full of betrayal. "Alright don't be too excited to see me now" he joked coming over to where I was with BB-8, I schooled my features into one of mock annoyance. 

"Don't worry I'm not" I mumbled, throwing a meaningful glance at my computer, I shut down my diagnostic program turning it off. It would have to wait till later. "So what can I do for you boys" I spoke mostly to BB-8 but it was Poe who spoke.

"So I wouldn't bother you unless I really needed to"

"That's a lie"

"Yeah that's a lie, but my ship got damaged on its last flight" Poe explained rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. My face lit up at the prospect of being able to fix something.

"And you want me to fix it" I clarified

"Of course! The general said it herself you're the best mechanic the rebellion has at its disposal" I blushed at his words. "Besides none of the other mechanics are half as cute as you are" he flirted and I was rendered speechless for a moment, my face starting to heat up.

"And here I was thinking that old Bolban was your type" I shot back turning away from him under the disguise of gathering my tools in my toolbox so he didn't see my face flushing. Maker, Poe has a way of weaseling his way into your heart, just the way you don't want him to. 

"Oh please Bolban is way out of my league" he replied and I laughed, covering my face with my hand in a lame attempt at hiding it. "Aha she laughs" he pointed out victoriously as I picked up my toolbox so I could go fix his ship. He pushed my hand away picking it up for me and walking out of my workshop without another word. My eyes followed him out of the workshop and I gave BB-8 a sideways glance. BB beeped a response and rolled after Poe. 

"He is not growing on me!" I whispered loudly at BB-8 as I ran to catch up with the two. I caught up to them and started asking Poe about his ship. "So what exactly is wrong with your ship?" I asked as he continued leading me towards where he landed it.

"Well it just wasn't running as smoothly as normal, the controls were jerky and I couldn't stabilize properly" he replied offhandedly "My turn for a question so what's your name?" He asked hurriedly. I squinted my eyes at him.

"This isn't a ask questions back and forth game Poe I'm trying to fix your ship" I insisted furrowing my eyebrows, in mock annoyance.

"But it could be a question game, think about it" He winked and put my toolbox on the ground next to his ship. 

"But it's not, so I'll take a look at it and let you know what I find" I informed him double checking my tool belt to make sure I had most of my main tools in there. Waving him off. 

"Uh no, it's my ship, I'm staying" he insisted crossing his arms stubbornly. I almost started protesting but there really was nothing I could do about it. It was his fighter jet after all.

"Fine, you can stay, but you better make yourself useful" I mumble dreading spending time with Poe significantly less than normal. 

"Yes ma'am" He saluted sarcastically giving me a wink, and I turned my face away from him, to hide my flush. Maker what's wrong with me? I'm supposed to find him annoying, he's done nothing but bother me for the past couple weeks. 

—time skip—

I spent over an hour checking on Poe's x-wing trying to find any evidence that something was wrong with it. But no matter where I looked his ship was in perfect condition as far as I could tell. I climbed down from the hull of his jet and turned to Poe once I got to the ground. "I just don't know what to tell you, Poe, your ship seems to be in perfect condition" I informed him and he furrowed his eyebrows. He opened his mouth about to respond when Finn walked by.

"(Y/N), Poe! hey guys!" He shouted happily, giving me and Poe a hug. I looked at Poe to see if he had caught Finn's use of my name and it took him a minute but it finally sunk into his thick skull that Finn had used my name.

"(Y/N)" he pointed accusingly at me "your name is (y/n)" he insisted.

"Yes fine my name is (y/n) don't wear it out" I huffed crossing my arms and sending a frown toward Finn, who looked between the two of us confused. "Thanks a lot Finn" I mumbled. 

"what what'd I do?" he asked, confused, and Poe answered him

"I've been trying to get her name for the past 3 weeks, and she hasn't been giving it to me, but now thanks to you Finn, I have it" He beamed proudly, and my heart fluttered a little at the sight. How could he get so happy over just learning my name. 

"Yeah that was for a reason, but as I was saying Poe, I can't seem to find anything wrong with your ship" I changed the topic quickly, and Finn looked at me confused. 

"Of course, there's nothing wrong with his fighter" He looked between the two of us, and I watched Poe's eyes widen, and he cleared his throat repeatedly. "Shut up Poe, but yeah I saw him getting his ship diagnostic when he came in earlier" He looked at me with a shrug. 

"Pft Finn doesn't know what he's talking about that wasn't my fighter diagnostic" Poe tried to explain, but Finn interupted him. 

"Uh yes it was, I heard his diagnostic guy say yeah everything's good as usual Poe, and then you said perfect flying as usual, and then you-" Finn faltered off in his sentence as Poe elbowed him in the stomach. 

"Alright, Finn she gets it" He hissed pushing Finn away who hunched over cluching his stomach. I looked at Poe, an unemused expression on my face, my hand on my hip and my wrench clutched tightly in my other. Poe laughed nervously. "Haha well you uh see, um so I y'know," he trailed off as I narrowed my eyes at him. "Alright fine! My x-wing is in perfect condition, I lied so you'd be forced to talk to me" he admitted.

"Are you Kidding me, Dameron? I could have been in my workshop the whole time testing my prototype!" I fumed poking him in the chest. "But noooo you just had to come bother me and make up a story so I'd waste hours trying to fix a ship that DIDN'T NEED FIXING!" I screamed and Finn backed away slowly.

"Yeah I'm just- I'm gonna" He pointed off in another direction and ran that way leaving Poe to be the sole bearer of my fury.

"Hey hey hey (y/n)" he held his hands out in front of him. "The day wasn't a total waste..." he trailed off seeing my foot tap on the floor quickly. " I mean come on... I know your name now." He finished speaking a goofy half smile on I his face as I screamed my frustrations. I took a deep breath and calmed myself down pointing an accusatory finger at Poe.

"If you ever, and I mean EVER step foot into my workshop, or approach me to talk to me without having either an actual proper emergency. Or strict orders from a superior to come to get me, I will murder you in your sleep. Do you understand me, Dameron?" I threatened him my voice lowered to a deadly calm, and for once he had no snarky remark. He simply nodded and I watched his shoulders deflate as I smiled satisfied with his agreement. "Good" I announced turning sharply on my heel and walking back to my workshop.

"She's even hotter when she's angry BB" I heard Poe sigh wistfully behind me and BB-8 beeped sarcastically in response. I resisted the urge to turn back to look at him, and continued to stomp away leaving him behind me. What was it that made him keep seeking me out, not that I was complaining, a hot, funny guy persistently trying to get my attention? It's not the worst thing that could happen to me. As I entered my workshop I caught myself smiling over thoughts of Poe, in all his annoyingness, the pilot was kind of growing on me. But I'd rather be shot dead by a stormtrooper than let him know that.  

--Time skip-- 

It worked! My cloaking prototype worked! After having to postpone my diagnostic tests for weeks, I was finally able to block out all distractions and test it and it worked! I laughed pumping my fist in the air and doing a little happy dance around my workshop. The best feeling in the world was knowing something I created and worked hard on worked to perfection. Of course, I'd still have to test my prototype on a bigger subject before presenting it to Leia. I sat down in my chair and started writing down things I could test my device on before presenting it to the general. I knew she'd be ecstatic to see what I've come up with. I was in the middle of making my list of things I could test it on when the door to my workshop wooshed open. And the beeps of my favorite droid were heard.

"Oh BB! You're just in time!" I swiveled in my chair turning to face him a grin spread wide on my face. "My prototype is done and it works BB! Can you believe it! It actually works! A few more tests and we might be seeing this bad boy on every ship in our fleet!" I sighed wistfully talking over the little droids' beeps. It was only when he ran himself repeatedly into my leg that I snapped out of my own head and listened to what he was saying.

"What? What about Poe?" I asked in too good of a mood because of my prototype to be annoyed or even pretend to be annoyed at the mention of his name. "HE CRASHED HIS X-WING?!?" I shot up from my chair panicked. Poe is the best pilot in our whole operation if he crashed his fighter something must have gone very wrong. I grabbed as many tools as my belt could hold and ran out to the landing bay as fast as I could. I arrived in record time and searched the area for Poe's X-wing and found it quickly. Everyone was gathered around it and Finn was helping Poe climb out of the pilot's seat. Poe leaned on him heavily until his gaze caught mine and then he swatted his friend away insisting he was fine. I approached him and he smiled wincing and clutching his ribs in pain.

"Wow (y/n) if I didn't know you better I'd say you look concerned for me" he grinned masking how painful it was to simply stand there in front of me, once again swatting Finn away when he went to support Poe.

"You may annoy me Dame- Poe but believe it or not I care" I huffed watching him try to suppress a smile on his face.

"Awe you hear that Finn she cares!" He looked at Finn who gave him a grimace. "I can die a happy man" He put his hand to his forehead miming a faint, and I rushed to support him.

"Don't even joke about that you idiot" I stood him up straight. "Now what happened?" I asked trying to move out of Poe's hold, but even being injured, he sure kept a tight grip on me.

"Oh you know the usual x-wing crashes, caught in a blaster battle with some empire tie fighters and, my engine went down during hyperspace travel, luckily I managed to touch down at the launch bay, relatively safely." He retold his story animatedly, as I unknowingly held my breath.

"Dank Farrik, Poe, alright well you get to the med bay while I get started on repairing your ship," I told him trying to pass him off to Finn, who reached out to loop Poe's arm around his shoulder.

"Uh-uh, you're with me (Y/n), you're not working on my ship without me." he protested clinging onto me like a koala. Finn and I gave each other a look.

"But Poe, you have to get to the med bay, and your fighter should start undergoing repairs as soon as possible" My reasoning fell on deaf ears as Poe turned his head away. 

"my ship my rules" he insisted stubbornly. 

"Oh you- I- Kriffing hell Dameron you're stubborn! Let's get you to the med bay. Your ship will have to wait" I rolled my eyes at Poe's smug expression as he threw his arm over my shoulder keeping his other hand pressed against his ribs. 

-Time skip because I'm not a doctor- 

I sat in the waiting room of the med bay fiddling with the tools on my belt pacing back and forth. Finn watched me from where he sat. 

"You really do, care for him don't you," He remarked after a long silence, and it stunned me enough to stop my pacing. 

"I mean I barely know him..." I insisted knawing on my bottom lip. Finn raised his eyebrow. "I only met him a couple of weeks ago, but he's got a way of weaseling into your head," I mumbled laughing lightly. 

"Yeah he does... he really likes you y'know?" Finn remarked, and I turned towards him. "for real, he tells a lot of jokes and brushes a lot of things off with a laugh, but he hasn't stopped talking about the cute mechanic who made him his droid's second favorite person" Finn laughed, and my face softened. 

"I didn't know he liked me" I messed with the tools in my belt nervously. "I just thought- Kriff, I don't know what I thought" I mumbled sitting down next to Finn. 

"Just, give him a chance, or at the very least hear him out. You don't even know the crazy ideas he came to me with to try and get your attention." Finn nudged me making me look at him and laugh. I went to respond but was interrupted by the med bay nurse, she looked at us her gaze not telling.  

"We've diagnosed him and have done everything we can, now he just needs to rest and heal" she instructed, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding in. "you guys can go in and see him now" She turned and walked back through the door. Finn and I stood up at the same time and he gestured for me to go ahead. We walked through the door and found Poe's room. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him in the bed. He was going to be the death of me, His wounds wrapped up with gauze and a lazy smile on his face. 

"you stayed" he murmured and I almost didn't hear him.

"of course I did, I was" I glanced at Finn for a brief second and took a deep breath. "I was worried about you Poe" I walked closer to him and sat on the edge of his bed. 

"you were worried about me" he reached for my hand then, and I didn't pull it away. 

"Yeah but don't let it go to your head" I chuckled sniffling. Finn stepped forward. 

"How are you feeling," He asked. 

"like shit" Poe laughed, wincing and bringing his hand up to his ribs. 

"Careful man" Finn replied, and Poe waved him off. 

"I'm fine" He hissed in pain trying to sit up. 

"you're obviously not" I cut in, trying to coax Poe back to a lying down position, he refused and sat up. 

"I'm gonna go check in with the nurse and see what's wrong with him," Finn announced, giving me a meaningful glance. He walked out of the room and I listened to his footsteps fade. Poe and I sat in silence before I snuck a look at him, he was already looking at me. I took a deep breath and spoke. 

"So... Finn told me you came up with all sorts of crazy plans to get my attention" I watched his eyes widen a little before he schooled his features. 

"Yeah, well y'know" He replied nonchalantly but I heard the waver in his voice. 

"I don't actually" I giggled, and he smiled a bit as I moved closer to him. 

"I didn't have to use any of them anyway, turns out all I needed to do to get your attention was end up in med bay" He smiled. "hurts like hell but I think it's worth it to get you to care" My face flushed as I tried to hide the smile blooming on my face. "So, when I get out of this prison will you let me take you for dinner." He asked, I contemplated my answer for a moment, I nodded slightly, and he grinned widely. "Wooooo" He cheered enthusiastically, and I laughed, we fell into silence, and I fiddled with my hands. I looked back up at him, but he was already looking at me with a smile on his face. I flushed and tucked my hair behind my ear. "Can I kiss you?" He asked and I looked at him my eyes widened slightly. "Please?" He added quieter than I've ever heard him before. He sounded almost nervous. He quickly regained his composure. "I mean I'm just so wounded, and it would make me feel better." He pleaded jokingly. I chewed on my bottom lip fighting a smile, he was so handsome, I leaned forward my mouth next to his ear.

"you're so pretty, Dameron" I whispered, leaning back slightly, smiling at the awestruck look on his face, I committed it to memory and closed my eyes leaning in and pressing my lips against his. It lasted no more than a couple of seconds before I pulled away, and when I did I watched him take a deep breath. "speechless for once?" I asked teasingly, and he smiled bashfully.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while" He admitted bringing his hand up to brush some hair out of my face. I leaned into his touch, and he moved his hand to the back of my neck and pulled me in for another kiss. I leaned into it, letting him lead, moving my lips in sync with his. He pushed against me eagerly deepening the kiss. I ran my hand through his hair tugging gently, he groaned and I smiled. His hand made its way to my thigh rubbing circles with his thumb. We only broke apart from each other at the sound of a throat clearing from the doorway. 

"got a little excited there Poe?" Finn chuckled motioning to the heart monitor by his bed which was beeping quickly. Finn and I laughed,  "the doctor said they're gonna keep you here a couple more days, just to keep an eye on you." Finn announced, and Poe groaned at the thought of spending more time in the med bay bed. 

"Hey I'll come visit you" I smiled tucking my hand under his chin and giving him a kiss on his forehead, I moved back so I could leave the room with Finn. Poe didn't let me back away before giving me another kiss. He finally let me go, and I moved away from his bed. "Get some rest Poe" I smiled. 

"Come back soon!" He told me, "I'll be sure to get better fast so I can take you on that date." He smiled slyly and I rolled my eyes. 

"Alright, bye Poe" I walked out the door. Finn followed behind me. I smiled, as Finn and I walked alongside each other leaving the med bay. 

"soo... took my advice I see" He teased elbowing me, gently. 

"Oh, shut up Finn" I rolled my eyes. We walked down across the grass to get back to my workshop. We walked in silence, for half the way there, when Finn cleared his throat and spoke up again. 

"He did it on purpose, y'know" Finn said hesitantly, and I looked at him confused. 

"did what," I asked. 

"uh, crashed his x-wing... he did it on purpose..." Finn mumbled, and I looked at him my mouth falling open. "it was one of the crazy plans he came up with to get your attention after you told him not to bug you anymore when he lied about having problems with his ship. So he figured if he had an actual emergency..." Finn trailed off and I clenched my fists at my side. I. was. fuming. 

"Kriffing hell, you mean to tell me he purposefully put himself in danger just so I would give him the time of day?!?!" I shouted. "Maker, of all the stupid, recklessly idiotic, ways he could have gotten my attention he had to go and get himself hurt, and put in the med bay" I fumed, ooh when I got my hands on Dameron. I looked at Finn really quick, and he gave me a questioning look. Before I bolted running back the way we came to the med bay. 

"(Y/N)" Finn shouted after me and I heard him running to catch up with me, I sprinted into the med bay building and arrived at Poe's door right as I saw Finn turn the corner barrelling towards me. I kicked open Poe's door. 

"DAMERON" I yelled and he turned towards me a smile on his face, the smile quickly vanishing when he saw the anger displayed on my face. His expression morphed quickly into one of fear, Finn stepped into the door frame, reaching forward to grab me and hold me back. "You're an idiot Dameron, of all the ways you could've gotten my attention you had to go and injure yourself! Do you know how worried I was? What if you had died huh? What if you got so hurt you could never fly again huh?" I tried to peel Finn's hands off of me, as I yelled at Poe. "when you get out of here ooh you're gonna be in so much trouble" I yelled Finn finally being able to drag me out of the room kicking and yelling at Poe the whole time. 

"I'll see you when I'm out!" Poe yelled.

--Time skip-- 

I didn't go visit him in the med bay, I was still fuming at him for purposefully crashing his x-wing just to get my attention. It was stupid and irresponsible, but I suppose it was kind of sweet that he was so desperate to get my attention. I sighed, I should go apologize for yelling at him. It wasn't fair for me to yell at him after he'd gotten in an accident, especially since it was on my account. I sat at my desk fiddling with a bit of scrap metal, and wiring. I had to find him and apologize. I was about to get my jacket and head out to find him and apologize to him when I heard a knock at my door. I guess his apology would have to wait.

"(Y/n)" A voice called out from the other side of the door. I tried to make it out. " I know you're in there" It was Poe, he must have been released from the med bay. I walked to my workshop door and unlocked it using the keypad I had installed, the door immediately wooshed open, revealing him on the other side of the door.  "(y/n) Hey," he said earnestly when he saw me standing there.

"hey, Dameron" I mumbled, not making eye contact with him.

"back to Dameron am I?" He joked halfheartedly, "listen um" I finally looked at him and he looked back at me with these big puppy dog eyes. My throat dried up, wow he was handsome, handsome but oh so stupid. "I um, I just wanted to apologize for making you worry like that, I was just so desperate for your attention, and you just wouldn't give me the time of day, but it was no reason for me to go and risk my life like that, it was reckless and irresponsible, I'm sorry" He rambled, and I smiled, here he was after spending days in the med bay cause he purposefully crashed his x-wing to get my attention, and he was apologizing for making me worry. I looked at him with a smile and pulled him in towards me for a kiss, I pulled away from him. And he looked at me with a dumbstruck look on his face. 

"Poe, Poe, Poe, it's okay" I interrupted him, sparing him from rambling any longer. "it's okay, I overreacted" I gripped his shirt tightly. "I was just so upset 'cause it really was irresponsible and dumb of you to crash an x-wing just for my attention, I didn't like seeing you hurt, especially when there were other ways for you to get my attention" I mumbled smiling slightly. 

"I know, I know, I'm sorry" He replied pulling me in for another kiss. I smiled into the kiss, feeling his hands drift to my waist. He pulled away not going very far. "Can you ever forgive me?" He asked teasingly. 

"I guess I can" I wrapped my arms around his neck. "As long as you promise never to do it again." He nodded excitedly, "good" I gave him another soft kiss on the lips. 

"Alright, cool cool" he smiled, "So if you're not busy, Finn, Rey and I are going down for dinner at the canteen, if you want to join us." He asked and I chuckled, "yeah I know not exactly the dinner date you probably had in mind but I'll take you out, for real this week." I nodded. 

"yeah, I've got some time" I answered. I walked back into my workshop to grab my jacket slipping it on. Walking back to the door I gestured for Poe to move out of the way, and I stepped to the other side turning to lock the door with the control panel. "alright I'm ready to go" I smiled, and we made our way to the canteen his hand slipping into mine.

--Fin--

QOTD: Who's your favorite star wars character?

Join my discord: https://discord.gg/9bwRmtXCuB

[cellythefloshie]

10, 14, & 17 for fic asks!

- @comphy-and-cozy

✍️ more fic writer asks!

10. what is the longest amount of time you've let a draft rest before you finished it?

I think it's a year (Happy Birthday for the Road Wife series), though there may be more. I have so many documents it's easy for me to keep track of when I created something haha.

14. where do you get your inspiration?

Everywhere? It'll just hit me while listening to music/watching tv/working/just walking around. Then I have to rush to get it down before I lose the idea haha 90% of my WIPs are just fully planned one-shots that I just thought of randomly.

17. talk about your writing and editing process

This is very detailed, so I will be putting it under the read more.

It never used to be much of a process, but the longer I spend my time here, the more I refine it. It started with the idea, and I try to get that into a document as soon as I can so it doesn't elude me. This often resembles a synopsis of a book ad will include the main characters and the general plotline.

This is what my summary for Just Me & You:

During the summer, and both of them would be back in Calgary for a mutual friend's wedding, both are on the bridal party and both in relationships themselves. Forced to get along the best they can - Adam is forced to watch Charlie with her cocky trust-fund baby boyfriend - and he doesn't like Adam either and makes it clear when Adam and Charlie start falling into old routines of their inside jokes and too-close-to-just-be-friends behavior.

Wesley - Charlie’s Boyfriend - FC: Ben Barnes

Groom: Dillon Heatherington

Bride: Daphne - A childhood friend of Charlie and Adam - introduced her to Dillon when they were both playing for Swift Current - FC: Sophie Turner

Then, it goes into the chapter planning process. Which is very detailed. I determine the events of each chapter and outline everything right down to the dialogue with bullet points. Again, Just Me & You Chapter 2 for example:

And then I write out the scene:

-when she’s fitted in her dress Charlotte sneaks out onto the porch for some air

-her thoughts are in turmoil as she tries to cope with the conversation she had with Wesley

-she’s out on the porch when Danica pushes out the from door, the screen door slamming behind her as she moves for the rental

-she’s visibility upset and Charlotte moves to call out to her but Adam is moving out the door behind her with her bags in her hand

-Charlotte watches as he puts her bag in the trunk and moves to the driver's side to speak with her through the window 

-she can’t hear what is said but soon Adam is walking back to the porch and Danica is leaving down the driveway

-“hey,” Charlotte greets him, voice soft, “is everything okay?”

-“yeah, everything’s good, better now actually,”

-“Oh?” Charlotte can’t help but be curious, “when will she be back?”

-“she won’t be,” Adam hums and leans against the railing of the porch

-he’s looking over her shamelessly at the sight of her in her dress

-“I’m sorry,” Charlotte hums, trying to sound sincere, “I am, Adam really.”

-“The only thing you have to be sorry for Charlie, is looking as good as you do in that dress.”

-Adam then leaves her on the porch and she’s left in shock

Choking back a sob, Charlotte left the den behind her. She moved swiftly through the summer home, her head down to keep anyone from seeing the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t run back to the living room that had become the bridesmaid’s workshop for the afternoon, and she didn’t run up to the bedroom. Instead, she moved for the front door and out onto the porch where she was met with the comforts of the warm summer breeze, and the faint floral smell that cloaked the air. It was a scent of comfort, one from her childhood laced with the memories of times that were so much simpler, and in an instant, it brought her peace. 

It was a peace that was interrupted by harsh words spoken out on the front lawn. Charlotte couldn’t quite hear them, but the tone had he looked up from the white wood beneath her bare feet and out over the land. Not too far from the porch, her eyes fell on Adam, who stood half-dressed in his tux that he would be wearing tomorrow. Something had interrupted his fitting, leaving his button-down splayed open, his chest on full display, and his belt loose around his hips. The subject of his tone, she didn’t know. They were on the other end of the phone call, his phone pressed firm to his ear as he paced back and forth in the grass. 

Maybe it was wrong for her to stay there, lingering, trying to listen to the frustrated words that spilled from his lips - but curiosity was a cruel thing and she needed a good distraction and so she indulged herself in the broken conversation. 

“-I told you not to call me anymore.”

She watched as Adam took a heavy breath, his hands coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“-That's just it Danica-”

Charlotte stepped a little closer to the edge of the porch, her elbows coming to rest against the rails as she quickly became all too invested in the conversation at hand. Her own relationship wasn’t perfect, and it was the very reason she too had gone out to the porch, but for a moment she could forget about that and indulge herself in Adam’s own drama - and selfishly, she couldn’t help but wonder if he really was single. 

“-no, no, don’t fly out here. We’re done, we’ve been done. It’s time for you to move on.”

Then, as quickly as she had stumbled on him, the conversation was over and Adam was slipping his phone back into his pocket and moving back towards the house. It had only taken him a few strides for him to notice her standing there, and it left Charlotte’s skin red hot - she had been eavesdropping, she didn’t want him to know that. Yet, she made no attempt at making excuses. Instead, she showed her concern. 

“Hey,” she swallowed hard, “is everything okay?

“Yeah, everything’s better now, actually.” Adam’s voice was soft as he took the porch steps in two casual strides. 

“Oh?” Charlotte hummed out and was met with only silence and for a moment she was sure Adam was going to go straight back inside, but instead she leaned up against one of the tall pillars of the porch, and crossed his arms firmly over his chest. Charlotte didn’t dare look at him as he stood there, knowing that her eyes were still under threat of tears she didn’t want him to see - but it didn’t stop Adam from staring. She could feel his gaze as it moved over the angles of her body, taking in the sight of her gown as it hung off the body he had once had the pleasure of getting to know better than almost everyone. It was a feeling that sent a shiver up the length of her spine. It was one not caused by the breeze but she played it off as such as she brought a hand up to run a hand over her arms which were now prickled with goosebumps. 

“You got everything sorted out, then?” She managed to speak again, her head cocking to the side casually as she finally let herself look up at Adam. 

“How much of it did you hear?” Adam half groaned, but his smile grew as he looked down at her. 

“Oh, I ah- It’s time for you to move on,” she admitted slowly her tone teasing as she mimicked the firm tone he had used. It earned a low laugh, his head shaking and sending his sandy brown hair into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I am Adam, really. I came out to get some air and I just kind of walked into it.”

Adam’s smile didn’t waiver as he stepped in close, his hand brushing over the curve of her back as he leaned in just enough to mutter against the shell of her ear, “The only thing you have to be sorry for Charlie, is looking as good as you do in that dress.”

Whether it was the heat of his words against her flesh, or the words themselves, Charlotte was left at a loss for words as Adam straightened up. She could meet his eyes as he pulled away, her dark gaze lost on the lawn in front of her as his words seemed to echo in his mind. She wanted to bite at him, to tell him that he shouldn’t say such a thing, but even if she could manage anything more than an uneven breath Adam didn’t give her the opportunity to. With his words, he had disappeared through the screen door leaving nothing more than the hollow sound of its closing in his wake. The sound was quick to fade, only to be replaced by the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Charlotte’s mind was quickly lost on how even after Adam was gone the touch of his hand against her back lingered and she near trembled at how his words had rocked her straight through to her core with a shock she did not know if she was going to be able to recover from. 

Finally, I throw it into a Tumblr post and use Prowriting Aid and Grammary to edit. They aren't perfect, but it's hard to find a good/reliable beta.

[sacrificethemtothesquid]

Hi, first I’d like to say I love your writing! I think I found your blog super randomly a few months ago and I just loved it at first read! And I’m glad that you’re writing atm, I feel like the only time I feel happy is when I’m creating/writing, do you feel that too?

My anxiety is pretty bad and it takes away a lot of my energy, and showing my writing to others can be triggering. I mean, I’m always so nervous everyone will think it sucks so my best moments are while writing, when I feel like I’m reading something I enjoy and it was written by me! You know?

Now I’ve written my first fic with multiple chapters and I can’t write the last one! I know what happens but whenever I try writing it everything sounds awful. I really wanted to finish it this month because I always postpone things, for once I’d like to finish something “in time”.

This is mostly me complaining, I’m sorry to bother with my next questions, I saw you saying you wrote two chapters and I felt like asking you how long does it take for you to post once you write them? Do you edit a lot? And what would you do if you couldn’t write a particular scene/chapter that is super important to the story?

Anyway, I wish you well! And that you can write as much as you want, that it flows beautifully always!

X

HI! Welcome, kindred spirit!

Sorry for the delay! My brain’s been mostly soup lately and I wanted to give you the thoughtful and considered response you deserve. I’m so glad and gratified you like what I put into the universe. I promise you aren’t a bother - your message is a bright spot in a string of grumpy days, so thank you. <3

I feel exactly the same way about writing. I have enough of an impostor complex that saying I was put here to write feels a little presumptuous, but yeah, I am my best self when the writing is good. Not being able to write feels like not being able to breathe. For me, it’s the most frustrating part of mental illness, wanting to do the thing that brings me the most purpose and the brainmeats not cooperating.

I’m glad your own work brings you joy! That’s the best part of writing: bespoke stories! All your favorite tropes! The perfect whump-to-fluff ratio! Every once in a while, I’ll go back and dig through an older work of mine and be like, oh yeah. That’s the good stuff. You can’t control what other people think, so fuck ‘em. (she says, not taking her own advice)

Congrats on the fic!! Finishing a multi-chapter is a HUGE accomplishment, even if you’re not quite there yet. Way to go!

And oof, I hear you on the anx. One of my favorite things about ao3 is its anonymity. I didn’t share my writing with anyone after a particularly brutal workshop in college, and getting positive feedback from strangers on the internet really helped me get back into it. I still don’t share much with people in meatspace, but only because I keep my fandom and “normal” lives pretty separate.

It’s okay not to share if it makes you nervous. It’s okay to share even if you’re nervous. That’s part of why we do it, right? To get petted and praised a little and told we matter? You matter.

Okay, questions:

Posting. It really depends. I junebug all over the place - a scene from the beginning here, something toward the end, then a chapter from the middle - so if it’s sequential to one I’ve already posted, out the door it goes. Otherwise, it sits, mocking me, until I connect the dots. Sunrise is the first fic I’ve tried to keep to a schedule, so I’m about 10 finished chapters ahead of what’s currently posted.

Editing. No editing, we die like men. Just kidding. Mostly. Since I’ve got chapters lying all over the place, I edit when I put them in sequence. I lightly edit again when I post. I should edit more. Instead, I am lazy.

Honestly? I read some writing advice somewhere that said if a scene isn’t working, maybe it doesn’t actually need to be there. There was a part in Length and Breadth that I was having a hell of a time with, and I ended up skipping over it completely, and I think it worked better not having it. If it’s truly integral, I try to get the bones of it down - eg he said x, she said y, stuff happens - even if it’s just bullet points, and go from there. But I’ve found for me, skipping ahead and digging into the aftermath instead serves me much better. Just a thought.

Thank you for the lovely note. It really means a lot. Let me know how it goes with your story. I know you can do it!

Cheers,

squid

[frangipanidownunder]

If you have one, what is your favourite trope to write? How many pieces of writing you have begun that you intend to finish? What are some of them about? How often do you write? What non txf are you writing? What was your most difficult piece to write/why? What fic/s (plus links please) are you most proud off. Who is your fav character to write/why? Post a passage (wip or posted) that you’re proud of. What is one thing you learned, through your writing process, you can pass on? Thank you 😘

Hey lovely. This is long, so it’s under a cut.

I think my favourite trope is friends to lovers because you can write it into any genre and throw in a dash of angst or smut too.

I am only have one fanfic WIP at the moment, and that’s the 1930s maid/master AU. I tend to only write one fic at a time. I pretty much only write to prompts so it would be unfair to start a fic for somebody else and not finish it.

In the non-txf world of writing, I have two short stories I’m editing for a competition. They’re both written, but I’m not totally satisfied that they’re ready yet. I will tweak them a little more before submitting. And then I’m starting on the hefty revisions of a YA horror novel I wrote during NaNo last year. That MS started as a few paragraphs in an xf horror workshop I held, then turned it into a short original story, then loved it enough to write a full novel.

The most difficult piece is the current WIP. It’s over 60K words and is historical, has a convoluted plot and requires research to get the details and setting right. I hate it, hahaha. Of my completed stories, Skin Trade was challenging because of its plot and structure.

I’m probably most proud of Skin Trade because it was a huge effort, but there’s not much pay off for casefiles. I wrote a Scully-focused multichap called Scar Tissue focusing on her recovery from the bullet wound in Tithonus that I felt was pretty good. And perhaps the other one that sticks in my mind that I always thought was a strong fic but doesn’t get much love is City of Souls. It’s late season six, the shadow of Fowley hanging over them, and Mulder takes Scully on a macabre drive.

Here’s a passage from the WIP ‘Midnight in the Garden of Dreams’ when Mulder meets Scully: 

The moon was a milky disc in the sky and there was a buzz of gnats at the windows. It was too warm a night to sleep, particularly with his mind whirring still. Led by stars and moonglow, he followed the path around the side of the manor house to where father was making plans for the new car garage. Further away, there was a small brick cottage that had been earmarked for his and Diana’s early years together. She’d already spent many hours telling him her plans to upgrade the building. He’d tuned out because he found the cottage charming. The married servants’ houses were similar in style, albeit smaller and terraced, their rooflines just visible beyond the cottage, limned in the chalky light.

Between his soon-to-be new home and the manor there was a walled area, an old kitchen garden, he recalled, long since unused. The gate was rickety and warped but he pushed hard and it creaked open. The smell was exotic, a heady mix of sweet and spicy and in the dim light he could see there were still plantings in rows. How long had they been here, just growing, life continuing despite neglect?

Bending, he plucked a leaf and rubbed it between his fingers. A minty aroma wafted under his nose. From behind, there was a shuffle. He swung round. Movement. A fleeting figure through the gate. He ran after it. Saw the red hair reflected in the moonlight.

“Wait! Miss, please. Come back.”

The figure slowed, stopped, turned tentatively. It was the maid with the linen. “I meant no harm, Sir.”

The accent, Irish, was unmistakeable. Her shoulders stooped and her hair, loose, fell forward.

“It’s okay, Miss…?”

“Scully,” she said, dipping her body into a curtsey. “Dana Scully, Sir. I’m a maid, but I’ve…”

“Been growing herbs in the walled garden, I can see. Come, I don’t bite, I promise, although, perhaps it is I who shouldn’t be consorting with mysterious red-haired Irish lasses. How do I know you aren’t the dearg-dur?” he said.

“If I were forced into a loveless marriage, I might do a little more than plant a garden.”

Her response surprised him in the best kind of way. “So you won’t suck the blood from my body if I ask you for a guided tour? It’s been a long time since I spent any time here.”

She hesitated, then lifted up her face. He saw a flash of something wild, something that he’d like to tame. He tamped the thought down. The date of the wedding flashed in his mind.

And one thing I’ve learned from writing that perhaps new/emerging writers need to practise is finishing your work. Even if you don’t love it, end it. Then you can revise it. You can’t edit a blank page.

Thanks for the questions, gorgeous.

[thebrochtuarachs]

Gotham’s Writing Workshop: Week 7 - Woe is All I Possess

Hello awesome people in the Outlander universe! 

A/N: This is my first Outlander fic that I am posting in the world wide web. I am very nervous about this but I am rather empowered by @gotham-ruaidh‘s writing challenge and encouragement, everyone’s work as well in this exercise, so I decided to jump the gun. I wrote this in what is a rather dull work day today, so thanks to that I was able to write this short story. I hadn’t had anyone else see or proofread this before posting this, haven’t written (or even practiced writing) any fic in years so I am rusty at this - so all mistakes are mine and any comments/suggestions/violent reactions for improvement are most welcome. :) . 

Woe is All I Possess

I was sitting in my desk, hacking through another edit on my book – a second of a trilogy about the Jacobites and the 45’ Rising. I’ve been at this the since three in the afternoon and I permitted myself to some well-deserved break. I put my pencil down, stretched my neck and grabbed my whisky from the coaster to my left.

The room was dark, except for the small light emanating from the lamp in my table and the clock’s ticking sound echoed around the room. I used to not notice it but now, its sound brings me dread and puts me in a trance with my thoughts. It was reminding me of my life passing by without really me really living it followed by a punch in the gut of the emptiness I suddenly felt in my soul.

I found him. Him. The man who my wife loves, the man who fathered her child.

I hadn’t meant to look or find him. Why would I? As far as I know, he asked Claire to forget him, I asked Claire to forget him and opening that door would just be tempting fate even more. But at the arrival of Colonel Hal Grey’s journals in my office - a gift from one of my Harvard colleagues in the hope that it will help in providing more insight in my book – had changed everything. 

I had seen his name in his logs and what happened to him immediately after the war. The first entry mentioned him being sent home to the highlands with a grave injury, after that, curiosity got the better of me and I fell down the rabbit hole - chasing him through every note and paper trail I could locate - and now I know where he is. Ten years after the Battle of Culloden, I am certain that James Alexander Malcolm Makenzie Fraser is alive.

Should I tell Claire? It’s the question I’ve been asking myself back and forth for the last hour and a half. I remembered how crazy she ran through Reverend Wakefield’s books in the library hoping to find a sliver of his existence in the aftermath. If she knew of these documents currently in my possession, I have no doubt that she’ll run back to Scotland, take Bree with her, and find him without giving it second thought on what the state of his life is now. If she didn’t, she’d continue to live her and Bree’s life with me where everything is settled and familiar. Call it selfish, but I would say that I’m the latter option that looks like the lesser ”win-win” situation for the both of us – even if it mean probably living half a life forever. 

Answering that, the next question I had is can I live with my selfish choice?

In choosing to be a historian, I thought that the details of the past meant the studying of lives lived and knowing their story to teach and educate the present – whether it’s for the influence of the good or the prevention of the bad. Moreover, accepting the consequences of history was at the inspection and discretion of the now and was never meant to directly touch. 

However, thirteen years ago, history decided to play on my fortune. It took my wife, to her back two hundred years, to a time closest to my academic heart  and expertise, only to return three years later, married and in love with another man and pregnant with a child that was supposed to be born and live in the 18th century.

With accepting Claire back came with a blessing and, if I was really going to be honest with myself, a curse. 

Bree was an unexpected blessing in my life. I never thought I’d be able to love someone so wholly who was not my own flesh and blood and yet, the moment I held her in my arms, she crept her way to my heart. I could not, even for the all the hurt I feel, consider Bree a mistake but rather the complete opposite as she is the only one that keeps me going nowadays. 

On the other hand, with her here, I was given a direct, tangible, and living reminder of the past – Claire’s past. Every movement Bree makes, every milestone she surpasses, every flicker of the eyes or toss of the hair, Claire would see him and weep. 

One night, I came home late and decided to check on Bree before heading to our bedroom. I opened the door softly and saw Claire hunched over a sleeping Bree who nestled herself in the protective shield of her mother. With her elbows propped and her back to me, Claire didn’t seem to notice or feel my presence. I observed them for a while – hoping to make a sweet memory of my girls. 

She was just looking at her, memorizing, caressing her hair away from her face and suddenly I saw her brush her hand through her nape that I knew would elicit a drowsy smile from Bree just as I discovered a few years ago. Claire gave a sad chuckle and said “Oh, you’re so much like your father”. She lied down and pulled Bree to her embrace and I abruptly left, stunned at her sudden revelation – not even bothering to close the door. 

The clock continued to tick along with my running mind and thoughts. As soft as the sound, it felt like a scream with every movement of the hand. It was too much to handle. I walked over to my mantle and threw it across the room to a loud crash that broke the item into hundreds of irreparable pieces. I chuckled rather bitterly in the irony of my situation.

I downed my drink in one gulp and ran my hands through my face and hair. In the now absolute silence of my study in my Boston home, my mind had one thought: How the hell did I end up here?

You know how because you agreed to this. She gave you an out and you were too honorable to refuse. Said my conscience’s snarky reply.

“That’s what good men do” I said out loud to the universe in the faith that it would make it a little bit more true and alleviate the dismay I was feeling.

And it comes at the sacrifice of your own happiness. You did this and chose this for yourself.

I sat back down to my chair to try and calm my thoughts and assess my emotions. I looked up at the clock to see how long I have until Claire and Bree would arrive home but then remembered I no longer had a mantle clock. I opened the drawer to my right grabbed my monogrammed stainless pocket watch - a gift from Claire in the first year of our marriage. It was 6:50PM – I have, at least, ten minutes to compose myself.

I placed my elbows in the desk and held my head in it, closed my eyes, considering and allowing all my emotions to show and release itself. Love, hurt, joy, pain, good, bad - combining them all left me feeling one final sentiment: woe.

“Woe is all I possess” I muttered under my breath.

I let the tears building in my eyes to overflow and allowed himself to feel everything for the first time in a long time.

Woe in the realization that Claire would never be mine again, that she would never love me the way I see her love and devote herself to him even after all these years, that we’d settled in a life of domesticity for civility and show; woe in the realization that Bree – with her fiery red hair and blazing blue eyes - would never be thought by anyone as mine in any way, shape or form, that our bond would never be just ours forever when the time comes that she learns the truth about her real paternity; woe in the reminder of my own inability to sire children; woe in having to give in to affairs just to fill a physical and emotional void that will never or could never be truly filled again; woe in the knowledge that my family history is tainted by a darkness that made me slightly sorry that I found real, historical truth; woe that I had resorted in forcing Claire into an agreement to forget him and everything about that part of her life even though I knew it would break her spirit. 

I needed protect myself and save myself a little dignity in this circumstance – even though it means forbidding a certain name to be mentioned in the next century. 

Woe is all I possess.

So yes, I can and will live with my own selfishness.

I hadn’t heard the door open until Bree called me out.

“Daddy!” she ran towards my chair and hopped on my lap. “Look what we made in school today!”

Bree laid her artwork on his table - a rather exceptional profile of one of her classmates – as she rambled on how her teacher taught drawing techniques and said that her work was the best one in class. 

I glanced up to find Claire at the doorway of my study staring at us. In another parallel universe of our lives, I’d see light and happiness in her eyes as I held what would have been our child. Looking at her, even I can’t deny the sadness and longing in her eyes as she imagined a life two hundred years back where her daughter is held by the man she loved who would’ve raised her if it wasn’t for the massive obstacle of history.

“Claire” I called out immediately putting her out of her trance.

“I’m making meatloaf for dinner. It will be ready in 30 minutes” she replied embarrassingly as she knew I caught her in moment faraway. I nodded as she left for the kitchen.

Woe is all I possess – but as long as Claire is cooking in the kitchen and Bree continues to talk about her day – there is still that small flicker of the life I once envisioned to be living. A small claim it might be but one I lay hold on even for a little while, just enough to push away the pain in my heart and move forward on to the next day and the next day and the next.

[cresselian]

11 Questions Tag: Writer Edition!

Tagged by @mangaluva (aaaa my fave writer noticed me)

1) How many works in progress do you currently have?

Counting original works:

1. My Otherworld setting, which I am currently working on the first book of. Modern fantasy with fairies! And super involved metaphysics because I enjoy that sort of thing

2. A web video series I’m doing with a good friend based on Dungeons and Dragons, which is currently in the first draft phase.

Counting D&D stuff:

3. A running journal for my character in a friend’s medieval stasis campaign, which I really need to take some time to work on. Maybe I should just put a few lines for each session? But that would be reductive...

4. Nihularian, a D&D setting of my own, which I plan to run at the end of this month/start of next month. I made like 12 new races, and the world is the inside surface of a sphere, because I am Just That Extra.

5. Nibelung, a D&D setting that I pumped out intending to run for my sister and her friends. It’s a lot more conventional than Nihularian, but I enjoyed putting in politics and magic.

btw I plan to run Fate Core, not d20. d20 would be too complicated to build a totally original setting in.

Counting fanfiction that I’ve at least started:

6. My Pokemon self-insert series, AKA my first fanfic, which is so dead I can’t even describe how dead it is. I had planned all the regions, and then crammed The Legend of Zelda and Kingdom Hearts onto the end with the same characters, because I was small but ambitious.

7. The Multiple Personalities of Artemis Fowl, AKA my second fanfic, which is dead because I was so disappointed in The Last Guardian I couldn’t write in that universe anymore.

8. Pokestar Studio Productions, which I swear I’ll work on again someday. I thought it would be fun to write fanfic chapters based on the Pokestar Studios movies from Pokemon Black 2 and White 2. Mostly it turned out to be tedious, but rewarding.

9. Satisfaction and Skating, which is the only fic I’ve completed an arc for. Hi, Check Please fanfic! We start you now! A Hamilton/Check Please crossover fic that I wrote for the Check Please Big Bang last year. Planning to write more of it this summer.

10. A Kingdom Hearts self-insert series I was working on with a friend, but never posted. It was a fun experiment in writing with a full co-author, and I’m still slowly plugging away at it for writing practice.

And now, counting fanfiction that I have at least partially planned, 90% because @a-canker-in-a-hedge is an enabler:

11. A Check Please/Pokemon crossover I toyed with before the release of Sun and Moon last year.

12. A Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812/Jupiter Ascending crossover, 30% because it would bring a better plot and 70% so I can do lavish descriptions of SPACE BAROQUE.

2) Do you/would you write fanfiction?

See above. I mostly write fanfic, because I think it’s fun. I do try to do something original with it, though, because I wasn’t raised on the fanfic conventions by which character interactions constitute a plot. I need to have some sort of external driver to what’s happening to enjoy what I’m writing.

3) Do you prefer real books or e-books?

In theory, e-books. In practice, real books.

I like the idea of e-books because then I could get rid of so much clutter in my house, and they make so much more sense than using dead tree to store all our words. But in practice, I can’t survive without the feeling of an actual book under my hands. But I won’t write in either; that’s blasphemous.

4) When did you start writing?

My first piece I remember was in Grade 1, but that was a class assignment and it’s only notable for being the first time a teacher said that I’d been really exceptional at something. I believe that I can call that a catalyst?

I posted my first fanfiction when I was 14/15, but started working on it when I was 11/12. I started doing original work in earnest about a year ago, when I was 18, once I started seriously thinking about doing a university creative writing program.

5) Do you have someone you trust to share your work with?

That would be @a-canker-in-a-hedge for my fanfic. I’m remarkably cagey about original WIPs, but once the draft is done to my satisfaction I will throw it at literally anyone I think can give me feedback. The more perspectives I can get, the better.

6) Where is your favourite place to write?

I plan on the bus or in other public places when I don’t have other entertainments. I have great ideas in the shower (and then desperately hope I won’t forget them). When I write by hand, it’s mostly in bed or on the couch, and when I write on the computer, it’s in my university’s library that I get the most done. I try to write from my desk a lot, but it never works. Tumblr calls to me...

7) Favourite childhood book?

The Redwall series by Brian Jacques. I reread it continually from when I was in Grade 3 to Grade 6, without ceasing for almost anything else. There were just enough surprises mixed in with Jacques’ formulas that I could be interested but never shocked, which was perfect for a kid who loved everything to be just so.

You could probably qualify the border between my childhood and adolescence by the point at which I put Redwall aside for good and dove into my high school’s fiction section to finally read Percy Jackson and Septimus Heap.

8) Writing for fun or writing for publication?

I’d like to add a third option: I write online for validation. What other skill do I have that people will adulate like my writing? None, that’s the answer.

For real, though, I write because it’s my favourite thing to do, and because I hope to someday get published/self-publish. As one of the TAs in my Creative Writing class this term said, if I had to stop writing I’d probably lose my mind, so I may as well use it to its best advantage.

9) Pen and paper or computer?

I write so much better by hand, especially when I have a plan. It forces me to think through what I’m about to write before I get there, and it distills my thoughts to make them more easily transferable to other people. You better believe I do all my planning by hand: I think in flowcharts and diagrams, and putting those into a digital universe is too time-consuming and involved to be practical.

However, my writing is more spontaneous on the computer, and it ends up... passable, I suppose. Because University, I rarely have the time to do a draft by hand followed immediately by drafting on the computer, so I write directly onto the computer based on the planning I did in my notebooks. If I had the time to do it all by hand, though, I would.

10) Have you ever taken any writing classes?

I decided to become an author in a grade 6 class called Reading Writing Workshop, because I was the best at it. I do a lot of things because I like being exceptional with minimal effort.

In the term I just finished at uni, I took a class on writing for children (there was a bit of good info) and last summer I took an introductory class on fiction writing at the university level (it was useless, and the classroom smelled of cleaning products).

The purpose of taking a writing class, I think, should be to force the students to produce a large volume of good work for deadlines, because that’s what I need to improve. The craft of writing is something that I, personally, learned primarily from reading voraciously, and from large amounts of practice and getting things wrong.

11) What inspires you to write?

Screaming with @a-canker-in-a-hedge.

Seriously, though, it’s reading, and playing games, and going ‘huh. that’s not how I would do that’. And then the idea takes root and suddenly there’s a new writing project. Often, I won’t actually write it until there’s a deadline, and then it will get done and it will be wonderful but I won’t be pleased because I couldn’t do it until the last minute and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Anyways

I tag @a-canker-in-a-hedge, @sakura-deserved-better, @ohthewhomanity, and any other writers who happen to see this! Do the thing! Then write something!

[couchcushings]

this is it! the last part of that thing for @justastormie​. see, two months ago i was like: “hey what if a tough as nails chick fell in love with some dork professor type?” and i told stormie i’d write them like a lil fic thing to boost my nano wc. well, it’s been two months and 35k words but it’s done. except for all the edits that i need to do because, uh, there are a lot of plot holes and things that make no sense. but here it is, the final part:

38

Ana's skeletal pair drew them through the forest at a breakneck pace. The trees flew past them, registering only as dark blurs against the blue of the sky. Van Helsing was sorely tempted to make a comment about the speed at which the dead travel; but he thought it would be in bad taste considering the current situation. He glanced at Ana. She was sitting across from them, her long straw-colored hair flying out behind her. Her lips quirked into the beguiling smile that he knew so well.

Rosie pinched him. "I understand that there are other women in the world, but could you please look at someone besides her?"

He snapped out of his revelry. Van Helsing smiled at Rosie. "My eyes are yours alone."

Ana sighed. "We're here."

What was left of the castle clung to the edge of a cliff. A rickety bridge stretched out in front of them, spanning the width of an impressive chasm. Rosie rushed up to the edge and looked down into its depths.

"Hot damn," she murmured. "Is this to keep company away?"

"More or less," Ana said. She stood on the first of many wooden planks that made up the bridge. "Please, follow me."

The bridge groaned under the weight. Halfway across it shifted abruptly to the left. Van Helsing grabbed for Rosie, pulling her close."

"How romantic," Ana purred. "He used to hold me like that, you know." An acid smile lit up her face. "Don't worry about the bridge. It's perfectly safe. The dilapidation is merely an illusion to, as Miss Winchester said, keep the company away."

They reached the other side without incident.

"We'll go no further until you tell us why you've brought us here," Van Helsing said. "You must have some motive."

"I brought you here to show you my plans."

"What purpose would that serve?" he asked. "Unless you've decided to kill us once you show us your fiendish workshop."

Ana smiled. "You always were the smart one."

He felt Rosie grasp his wrist. "What would that achieve?" she asked.

"Oh, it's not because of anything tactical. I'd just like to see the two of you dead. Now, if you would please follow me," she walked toward a gaping hole in the cliff face.

"I think we'd rather stay, if that's all the same," Rosie took a step back.

"If you do I'll see that you're killed now. So, you can either come with me and live a little longer or you can die now. It's completely up to you."

Van Helsing and Rosie exchanged a look.

"We'll follow you," Van Helsing said.

"I thought you might."

The hole in the cliff face proved to be the entrance to a cave of massive proportions. Stalactites hung from the ceiling in every possible place and the floor was worn smooth by an endless trickle of water that stemmed from somewhere in the depths of a chasm that defied reality by its very existence.

Just as she had with the ravine outside, Rosie stood on the edge of the chasm and gazed into its depths. "This one is even deeper." She faced Ana. "It's this bottomless?"

Ana shrugged. "Nothing I've ever thrown into it has come back."

Van Helsing stiffened. Who was this woman who so casually spoke of death and destruction? She hadn't been so hard at university. On the contrary, he remembered her being exceedingly soft. When had she changed? Was it Brimstone Bertram's influence? A thought passed through his mind that made his blood run cold. What if she was under some sort of magical or demonic influence? Could it be that this was not her true nature?

"Come now, Abraham, if you tarry my servants will be forced to take you in hand."

He didn't like the way that she said servants.

At the back of the cave there was a dark recess that split into two tunnels. A sudden rush of hot air and the suggestion of fire erupted from the tunnel on the right."

"What do you keep down there," Rosie asked, half hiding behind Van Helsing.

"We don't talk about it."

"Why not?"

Ana's eyes narrowed. "I seldom keep my mistakes. But I could not dispose of this one. And, in my experience, no one likes speaking about their mistakes."

"Fair enough." Rosie made a mad dash for the right hand tunnel.

Van Helsing followed her, not really knowing why or what they were running toward, but wanting to escape none the less. "What do you think it is," he shouted over the growing noise of fire.

"I have a good idea," she called back as she skidded around a corner in the tunnel.

He stopped just short of her. She was standing on the edge of a rift in the floor of the cave. Stretching out below was a massive pile of gold and jewels and sitting atop the treasure was a dragon. He swallowed. A dragon. A real, honest to goodness dragon. He fought the urge to shake. "Was this what you expected?"

"Kinda. I wasn't expecting him to be all... bones."

True to her statement, everything on the dragon, from the tips of its teeth to the tip of its tail, was made of some kind of bone—with one notable exception: its eyes. The dragon's eyes were two massive diamonds that glittered wickedly in the fiery light of the cave. It roared and let loose a stream of fire at the ceiling.

"How long do you think it took her to build?" Van Helsing breathed. "And why does she consider it a failure? It's very clearly alive and showing no signs of deteriorating."

"Look," Rosie pointed at the creature's feet. "She's chained it. What if," she turned to face Van Helsing, "what if she can't control it? That would explain why she views it as a failure. And, if that's the case, we can use it to our advantage."

Van Helsing shot a quick look over his shoulder at the tunnel. "Explain—and quickly, someone is coming."

"Dragons are ancient and super intelligent. If we can make it see that we're friends and we release it, it'll destroy all of its enemies who are, coincidentally, our enemies."

"You're mad."

"I thought you already knew that." She grabbed the front of his robe and pulled him into a hasty kiss. "If we don't get out of this, I'd just like to say that it's been a real pleasure being your wife, or whatever."

He returned the kiss. "Likewise."

39

Their feet sent gold coins sliding everywhere as they crossed the sea of riches in search of a dragon's goodwill. Rosie took the lead, holding Van Helsing by the hand. Every once in a while she would sneak glances at his face, as though she needed reassurance that she was doing the right thing. He nodded every time. He trusted her to lead him into—and hopefully out of—the jaws of death.

They stopped just in front of the dragon.

Rosie cleared her throat. "Listen here, I've never been good at kissin' ass, so you'll have to forgive me if I don't speak too well."

The creature swung its massive head around and stopped just short of striking her.

"My name is-- is Amity and is this Abraham. We came here because we want to stop the necromancer. Y'know, the one that brought you back to life. We thought that since she's got y'all chained up here y' might want us to free you and if'n we do y' might help us destroy her castle." She swallowed. "Ma'am. Sir."

Van Helsing fought the urge to rub his face.

The dragon inhaled deeply, almost drawing Rosie into its nose. "You are a wolf, child." Its voice was deep and wheezy, like the bellows of some ancient blacksmith.

"I-I am. So's he."

"I know. I would know that foul stench anywhere. Why have you really come here, pup? For my riches?" It hissed at them, a tendril of smoke curling from between its teeth.

"I already told you: we're here to stop the necromancer."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Well, I'm fairly certain she wants me dead." Rosie shrugged. "Other than that, I don't like her. She keeps trying to seduce my man."

Van Helsing took offense to being referred to in such a possessive fashion, but chose not to comment.

The dragon swung its head around and looked him in the eye. "Does your mate speak for you as well? Do you seek to destroy the necromancer for jealousy's sake?"

"No," he said softly. "I would rather not seek her destruction at all. However, she has forced the matter. She has been terrorizing a village for some months now and last week she took a child hostage. I fear it is all because of me. I would like to right her wrongs."

The dragon laughed, smoke and tongues of fire pouring from between its lips. "How self-centered of you, Abraham. It was never about you. Ana Bertam's motives go back farther than your little dalliance—even those you shared at University."

"How do you know about that?"

"Because as cunning as she is, she is also very stupid. She seeks a power much too ancient to be controlled and wishes to use the child to unlock it."

"She's going t' kill Josephine!" Rosie cried, scrambling away across the shifting gold.

"Hold your temper." The dragon caught her up in a paw. "Or it will be your undoing. If you truly wish my help, you will have to help me first. I do not desire Ana's rise to power any more than you do, but I am unable to check it unless you keep your word and release me." It dropped her by its left hind leg.

She examined the shackle and shook her head. "It's locked up tight. I'll need something to pick it."

Van Helsing cast around the piles of coins until he found a guilt dagger. "Will this do?"

"Nicely, thank you." She inserted the tip of the dagger into the shackle and left it for a moment. Then, in a sudden fit of motion, she struck the hilt and drove it home. The shackle clicked and fell off. She grinned. "I didn't think that trick would work on magical chains."

The dragon flexed its claws. "Good," it hissed. "For the act of freeing me, I will destroy the necromancer."

"Wait," Rosie exclaimed. "What about Josephine? She an innocent."

The dragon's eyes narrowed. It laid its head down next to Rosie. "You would jeopardize the fate of the world for the sake of one child?"

Van Helsing stepped up behind her. "We're of one mind on this subject: yes."

"I shall see what I can do. Hide now, wolves, she is coming." With a great gust of wind, the dragon flapped its wings twice and rose above the sea of gold. It let out a roar, breathing a stream of fire at the entrance to the cave. "I am coming for you, Ana Bertram, tremble in fear!"

Rosie and Van Helsing stood on a small hill of treasure, watching as the dragon disappeared through the tunnel.

"I don't think it's going to spare Josephine," Rosie said.

"A safe deduction."

"And y'all know what that means."

Van Helsing sighed. "You're about to come up with one of your favorite plans?"

She grinned. "How d' you feel about a little mayhem and destruction, husband?"

40

Once they were out of the treasure room, they followed the left hand tunnel until it branched again. Rosie stood, running her hands through her hair. "Which way?"

There was a scream of terror and pain from the left.

"I would say that way," Van Helsing said, following his wife toward the sound of battle.

The tunnel broadened and gradually turned into a cave. It was full of all manner of magical and scientific paraphernalia. At one end of the room was a black alter carved into the stone wall. At the other end was a fully functional laboratory. It was from the laboratory that the screams emanated.

A man—or what was left of a man—hung in a gibbet, his bony jaw hanging by a thread as he screamed in terror. The object of his fear was sensibly, the dragon. It sat in the middle of the room, swishing its tail like a cat. The object of its attention was Hans Bertram. He stood, knees quaking, with his back against a bookcase and his hands in front of his face.

"Foolish leach! Did you really think you could fight me?" the dragon threw back its head and let out a fiery laugh.

Van Helsing nudged Rosie. "I don't see Josephine."

"She must be in a different room." Rosie craned her neck to see behind the dragon. "I don't see Ana either."

"The tunnel to the right?"

She nodded. "There's nowhere else."

They quietly made their way back down the passage, this time taking the tunnel on the right. Somewhere ahead there was water dripping on stone. Van Helsing frowned. Was that the crackling of electricity? It grew progressively brighter and the tunnel suddenly stopped at the edge of a large room. It was no longer a matter of imagination, Van Helsing could feel the electricity in the air.

He touched Rosie's arm. "Now is the time for a little subtlety, don't you think?"

"I do think." She crept forward, stopping just out of the light. "I found them," she hissed, beckoning for him.

In the center of the room was an alter and lying atop the alter was Josephine. Ana stood over her, knife in hand. Terrible, ancient words spilled from her lips as she drew little circles in the air with the knife. Josephine whimpered but did not move.

"The knife," he whispered.

Rosie took his meaning and grabbed the golden dagger from her waist. She drew her hand back and threw it at Ana. It struck her square in the shoulder.

Ana let out a cry of anguish. "You fools!"

Rosie rushed forward, switching to her wolf form with alacrity. She let out a vicious snarl, the noise shaking from her ribs.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Ana wailed, using her good arm to swing the knife at Rosie. "I've been planning this for years! I was going to be a goddess!"

Rosie dodged her feeble blows and rushed forward, jaws wide.

Josephine let out a little scream and scrambled off the table toward Van Helsing. He caught her in his arms, watching in horror as Rosie sunk her fangs into Ana's bad shoulder. A thought drifted through his mind. /Run, husband, and take the child with you. When she dies she's going to take the whole mountain with her./

He shook his head, hoping to catch her eye.

She only repeated her entreaties. /Take Josephine to safely. It's going to take more than an old bitch like this to kill me. Remember, we still have our wedding night to look forward to and it won't be much of one if I'm still pissed off./

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips and he ran. He ran. He ran past the left tunnel and the wisps of dragon fire; he ran past the ruins of the castle; he ran across the bridge and he didn't stop until he and Josephine were over the bridge. Van Helsing turned to face the ruin. Rosie was running at full speed toward him, her paws thudding on the dry earth.

Just as she was about to jump onto the bridge, a column of fire erupted from the cave's mouth and engulfed her. Van Helsing clamped his hand over Josephine's eyes, unable to look away himself. He felt the breath leave his lungs. The fire ceased, revealing a small white shape at the edge of the bridge. His arms shook.

"Dr. Van Helsing," Josephine cried. "What happened?"

He spun her around and pushed her toward the forest. "I want you to go and hide in the trees and don't come out until I tell you. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

He could feel sobs wracking her tiny frame. He kissed the top of her head. "You'll be fine, now go!"

As soon as Josephine was safely tucked away in the tree line he was on his feet and running. Rosie was lying just shy of the bridge, her eyes fixed on the sky. But she was breathing. Van Helsing fell to his knees. Thank God she was breathing.

He didn't know where to touch her. Her skin was red and raw with burns. He could smell the sickening stench of burnt flesh as he leaned in to listen to her chest. Her breath was shallow, almost nonexistent. Van Helsing leaned back, unable to stay close any longer. Then, before his eyes, the skin on her face began to crack. The burns fractured into innumerable pieces and disappeared from her skin. He touched her shoulder. She winced and her eyes flew to him.

"Lycanthropsy," she coughed, "has its advantages."

"Why aren't they all healing?" He gestured at a large burn on her stomach.

"Some are worse than others. It'll take longer. I'll still have scars."

"But the fire... It should have melted your skin. I've seen what happens to people who-- who go through things like this." He touched her head. "All it did was take your hair."

"Lycanthropsy. Being a wolf has its advantages." She coughed again, blood flying from her lips. "You should be more worried about this." She pulled a still bloody knife from under her. "Ana had one last revenge. Abraham, you've got to get me back to the faeries. They're the only ones who can save me." Her eyes rolled back in her head and she was silent.

Van Helsing shook her shoulders. "Rosie! Rosie, wake up!"

It was no use. He took her in his arms and, for the second time that day, he ran for the life of another.

41

On reflection, Abraham Van Helsing felt a certain amount of guilt at almost leaving Josephine in the forest. Fortunately her father and mother had appeared just as he ran past her, but he would never forget the moment of agony where he thought he would have to chose between her life and Rosie's. It pained him because he knew that Rosie would have told him to save Josephine.

He sat at her bedside, watching her breath beneath the clean white sheets. It had been a week since Ana's plans had fallen to ruin. The moment he was sure Rosie was safe, Van Helsing had told Prince Tepes and Prince Ailill about the dragon and Ana's twisted plan for world domination. The princes had exchanged looks and told him that they would take care of it.

Rosie shifted in bed and groaned. "What day is it?"

"Wednesday."

"Almost a week." She pushed herself up on the pillows. "That's a new record. Did you worry every minute?"

"Every second."

"I thought you would. The knife was silver."

"I know. We owe Marie-Ann quite the debt."

Rosie frowned. "What did you sell her? Please tell me we don't owe her any children."

"We don't."

"Or your soul."

He laughed. "God has full possession of my soul."

"Then what did you sell her?"

He blushed. "It's rather embarrassing."

"Did you fuck her?" Rosie leaned forward expectantly. "Because if y' did, goddess or no, she's dying tonight."

"Jealousy doesn't become you. And no, there was no sex involved."

"Then what did you give her?"

"She wanted your garter. The red one with the lace."

"The one we were saving for our wedding night?"

"Yes, that one." He clenched and unclenched his hands. "Are you angry with me?"

"No," she said, smiling. "But we'll need a new one before the wedding."

It was his turn to smile. "I've got some news that I think you'll enjoy."

"What's that?"

"We don't have to get married again."

She laughed. "You're kidding."

"No! It turns out that the Father Theodore that my sister did extensive research on was the wrong one! He was exiled to some godforsaken little island in Ireland. Our father Theodore has a completely legitimate ministry in Bucharest and was just staying the night at Mrs. Schmidt's inn."

"So," she gazed at him, blinking lazily in the late afternoon light, "we are married."

"Yes," he said, returning her smile. "We are."

Rosie slid out of bed and stretched. She slid her hands down her bare skin, exploring the new burn scar on her left hip for a moment before letting her hands rest on her thighs. "Then what are we waiting for?"

He took her by the hand and pulled her into his lap. "Marie-Ann says that you will be fit for all forms of physical activity by Saturday but not a day earlier. She was adamant about that."

"She's no fun." Rosie played with his shirt buttons. "Not even a little fun?"

He kissed her hand. "Not until Saturday."

"That's an awful long time to wait."

"It is." He kissed her hand again. "And you're not making it any easier."

"Oh, darling, if it was easy it wouldn't be worth it."

42 - Epilogue - Saturday

Abraham Van Helsing sat at the little writing desk in the corner of his bedroom, clad only in a garish red dressing gown. It had been a "gift" from Prince Ailill on their departure from his castle.

"It always brought me luck in the bedroom," he'd laughed. "I don't see why it shouldn't do the same for you!"

He smiled at the memory and rubbed the fresh bite mark on his neck. Luck was a very subjective thing.

"Husband?"

He half-turned to see Rosie. She lay sprawled on the bed, her short hair still mussed from earlier that evening. She smiled, her lips were red and inviting. It took all his self control not to throw off the red dressing gown and get back into bed.

"Yes, wife?"

"What are you doing?"

"Writing a letter to my mother."

Rosie made a face. "Now?"

"It's the only time I'll have enough courage to do so," he laughed, turning back to his pen and paper.

He heard the bed creak behind him. She drew his chair back slightly and settled onto his lap. "I'll write," she said, giving him the same crooked smile she had a few moments before, "you dictate. It'll keep your hands free."

"How will I ever get anything done with these distractions," he growled into her neck. Van Helsing ran a line of kisses across her shoulder, cupping her breasts in his hands. "I never knew skin could be so soft."

She arched her back and leaned into his hands. "You're the one who wanted to write this letter. C'mon, doc, let's get writing so we can get back to more important things."

"As you wish." He let his hands drift down to her hips and set his head on her shoulder. He cleared his throat. "'Dear Mother and Father, I'm writing today to tell you of a great happiness that has come into my life quite unexpectedly.' Did you get all that?"

Rosie shifted slightly in his lap, rubbing her thighs against his. "All of it." She leaned back and treated him to an upside down kiss. "This isn't going to be a long letter is it?"

He ran his fingers along her ribs. "I should hope not. But I'm only as quick as my secretary."

"Well I got the first bit."

"This is the tricky part," he said, frowning. "How does one tell one's parents that they got married?"

"Like this: 'It all started when Miss Winchester and I were doing anthropological research in Romania. We were caught in a snow storm and forced to room at an inn. The proprietress assumed that we were a young couple in search of a quick f--"

He pinched her. "No profanity."

"Don't worry, I wasn't goin' to." She frowned. "Where was I? Oh right: 'in search of a quiet place to spend the night in sin.' How's that?"

He sighed. "It'll have to do. 'Under this assumption, she produced a priest and married us. I should have told you when we came home for Guy Fawkes night, but I lacked the courage to do so. There was some question, at the time, of Father Theodore being an ordained priest and we didn't wish to alarm you without cause. But, mother and father, we looked into his background and credentials and he was, indeed, a priest. I was at a loss for the words to tell you that I had been married. Indeed, both Miss Winchester -- that is, to say, Mrs. Van Helsing -- and I were unsure of the proper way to tell you.

"'Unfortunately, we were unexpectedly called away and unable to wait and tell you in person. I know it is cowardly to send this letter instead of coming to you in person, but we are, at present, unable to leave Romania for at least--' How long a honeymoon would you like to have?"

She gave him another upside down kiss. "Do you think you can survive another two weeks?"

He gave her ear a playful nip. "With joy. 'For at least another fortnight and we didn't want to surprise you too much.'"

"I'm fairly certain that your mother, at least, will still be shocked. And I'm not sure that poor Miss Lucas will even survive the disappointment of not being able to marry a disgraced middle-aged professor."

He pinched her again. "I'm not middle-aged."

She sighed. "We'll resolve that argument later. Some time around the time that we resolve, once and for all, the matter of you being a doctor."

"Listen--"

"Later! 'So, mother and father, the next time you see us it will be as husband and wife. I look forward to introducing Rosie to you as your new daughter and hope that we will have a long and happy life as a family.' There, sign it."

He threaded his arms through hers and signed the bottom of the page. "Done."

"Finally." Rosie twisted in his lap until she was facing him. She undid the dressing gown and he slid out of it shoulders first. "Shall we go back to bed?"

"Lets."